Chapter Ten: Portraits

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"So then what happened?" Stuart asked with a sigh, narrowing his eyes as he ruffled the back of his hair.

"She bloody pulled me off the bus before I got chance to hit them," John muttered annoyedly.

John was still irritated by the events of the night before. After Robin had pulled him off the bus he knew his temper was close to overflowing, hence why he stormed off in front of Robin and left her to walk home alone, which now he was regretting. Just retelling the story to Stuart as they sat in his bedsit flat - Stuart working on a rather large canvas painting whilst John was sat across from him, his own art strewn across the floor with disinterest - made him feel angry. Stuart could tell, far too used to seeing John's terrible temper erupt, but he couldn't tell just where his anger was directed; at those lads or Robin?

"So they were coming onto her and slagging you off, but what were they actually saying?" Stuart asked, deciding he needed more details before he took either John or Robin's side in the matter.

"Some proper judgemental stuff, calling her big, and fat, but they were looking at her like she was a piece of meat!" John exclaimed angrily, and realising just what John was saying Stuart's eyes widened, looking down at the floor to avoid John's gaze. He didn't though, and John picked up on it, narrowing his eyes. "What?"

"Not to wind you up anymore or owt, but when you were out smoking with Rob yesterday Pete called her chubby," Stuart explained with a sigh, remembering what had been said at band practice. "It pissed me off too to be fair, but you said Rob wasn't bothered by those pricks on the bus?"

"No, that was the worst part! She just said it happens all the time!" John exclaimed, clearly not taking Stuart's advice as the information about Pete just made him angrier. "Seriously though, does that bastard want to get dropped from the band or what? He doesn't even know her,"

"See that's what I said, and it would help to have a drummer who can actually play the drums," Stuart pointed out with a short laugh. "And that's coming from someone who can't really play their instrument,"

He'd hoped his self-depreciating joke would take the pressure off Pete and change the conversation. He didn't like it when John got angry about something, his coping mechanisms not particularly the healthiest as he'd usually rant and rave until someone he didn't care about annoyed him, resulting in him getting in a fight. Stuart had patched him up from a few fights so far, not always managing to pull him away from conflict, and he didn't want his frustration to build to that point, not that day anyway.

The whole point of John going to Stuart's flat was because they both had coursework due in the next week. John wasn't always the most focused or dedicated student, scraping through school with the plan to do the same at art college. That wasn't really the best plan though, so Stuart and Robin had both decided that a group work session might give him the motivation to get his head down. Robin was still on her way to the flat though, and John was still clearly too wound up from the night before to even consider his sketchbook or grades. Part of Stuart hoped that when Robin got there John's attitude would change.

That didn't seem possible though, as a knock eventually came at the door and John immediately tensed up. Perhaps he was just nervous to face her again for the first time since he abandoned her to walk home alone, embarrassed for the way he acted. Stuart could see right through him though, knowing he had some sort of crush on Robin, be it lustful or emotional, but either way he was clearly worried that she would be annoyed at him. That wasn't a good sign though, as usually John's worry embodied itself into darker emotions, ones that would lead to him getting into fights.

"Try and drop it, alright?" Stuart suggested as he set aside his paintbrush to go answer the door.

John fought back swearing at him, feeling as if his best mate didn't understand just how wound up he was, but he didn't get the chance before Stuart was opening the front door. Robin looked just as nice as she always did, her hair pulled up into a messy bun, though she was dressed in a black turtleneck tucked into a long grey skirt that flared out at her hips in an A-line. John couldn't help but wonder initially if she had dressed more covered up than usual to avoid a repeat of the night before, but then he found himself thinking of those lads and their comments and he quickly snapped his thoughts away, not wanting to make himself angry again. He tried to focus on how nice she looked, juggling her portfolio and a bag of art supplies, but as she came into the flat and saw him sat on the floor he saw a flicker of something behind the eyes. Was it annoyance, disagreement, disappointment? He couldn't figure out if he'd imagined it, or if it was there and the night before had made her finally dislike him. If it was the latter, he wouldn't be surprised.

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